The World Spins Madly On
by All-things
Summary: Letters from loved ones gets the Heroes thinking about home.  Song fic. Enjoy.


Author's Note: This is a 'songfic', as many people call it. I don't own Hogan's Heroes or the song I use in this story. I only own the idea to put the two together. This is also an answer to a challenge.

Enjoy.

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The World Spins Madly On

LeBeau was lying on his bunk. The mail had just come that day, and he had received a letter from his mother. The family was doing fine, considering they were in the middle of a war, and France was occupied by those filthy Bosche. The Germans allowed them to keep their restaurant open and it was doing remarkably well. LeBeau was glad for them.

Folding the letter, LeBeau began to think about his life before the war. He was the oldest of four children. There was him, then Catherine, Joan, and Philip. They all grew up in Paris and lived on top of the family restaurant. Their uncle owned a farm and supplied them with a lot of their vegetables. They would play 'restaurant' when they were younger. Louis was the chef all the time, Catherine was always the waitress, and Joan and Philip were the costumers.

When he was twenty-five, he fell in love with a waitress that worked for his father, and he asked her to marry him. She accepted, and they were married. LeBeau never thought that someone could be that happy. Those three years with his precious Michelle were the happiest days of his life. But five months before France declared war on Germany, she was killed in an automobile accident. Just as he had never experienced such happiness, he had never felt that much grief. He remembered feeling cheated, somehow, as if someone had broken the rules and took her away from him. He wasn't even there to say goodbye. He had come home from work that day, to find an empty house.

LeBeau had to work hard not to cry. That particular memory of his wife was painful. He was interrupted from his thoughts by the sound of Carter's voice.

"LeBeau, are you okay, buddy?"

LeBeau turned his head to see Carter looking up at him from his bunk.

"_Oui_, I was just thinking about life before the war."

"Oh, well you looked like you were going to cr—" Carter started.

"Andrew, read your letter," Newkirk interrupted gently from his spot at the table. The Englishman looked at LeBeau and their eyes met. After a moment Newkirk gave a small nod and turned back to his letter. Newkirk was the only one who knew. He was the only one that LeBeau had ever told. He hadn't even told his family, they had found out when the hospital called his parents to come and take him home. Newkirk was the only person who he had actually _told_. The first year of his captivity, LeBeau and Newkirk had grown really close. By the time the others came, he and Pierre had formed an unbreakable friendship, and knew each other like the back of their own hands. They didn't have any secrets from each other.

LeBeau smiled. Despite his faults, Pierre was the best friend that he'd ever had.

Woke up and wished that I was dead  
With an aching in my head  
I lay motionless in bed  
I thought of you and where you'd gone  
and let the world spin madly on

Carter saw Newkirk look at LeBeau then nod and turn back to his letter. He also saw LeBeau smile. It looked to Carter that Newkirk was protecting the Frenchman from something. But what? Puzzled, Carter turned back to his letter. He'd figure it out later.

He read the letter from his mom. Out of everything that she had said, the thing that stuck out the most was: _Mary Jane got married last week. I thought you would want to know. I'm sorry it didn't work out. I thought she was a nice girl._

Carter sighed. Mary Jane. He still cared for her and it still hurt sometimes, but he was glad that she had found someone who she loved back.

"Something wrong, Carter?" Kinch asked. The black man was sitting at the window besides Carter's bed.

"Mary Jane got married," Carter answered. He had never had trouble sharing his thoughts and feelings with others.

"I see. Are you all right?" Kinch asked.

"Yeah, I guess. I'm glad she found someone she can love."

There was a pause before Carter continued. "I always wonder what went wrong. I mean, we've liked each other ever since we were kids. I guess I was kinda busy after high school with collage and all. I really didn't make time to spend with her. She also changed a lot. I think she was kind of embarrassed of me at times. And then with me being captured, I guess she just thought of me as a lost cause."

"Andrew, if she thought that then she must have been crazy," Kinch said.

"Crazy?" Carter asked.

"Yes, crazy. You're one of the most caring, thoughtful people I know. I don't see how anyone could be embarrassed by you. I know I'm not."

"You really mean that?" Carter knew Kinch didn't lie often, at least not to his friends, but he couldn't help but ask.

"Yes, I do."

Carter smiled. "Thanks."

"Anytime," Kinch responded.

Carter scanned his letter again. This time the part about Mary Jane's marriage didn't bother him as much. He had loved her once, and had thought it was his fault that she didn't wait for him. But it wasn't. She had changed. Plus, like Schultz once told him, _"Girls are just like war. There's always another one coming."_

Everything that I said I'd do  
Like make the world brand new  
And take the time for you  
I just got lost and slept right through the dawn  
And the world spins madly on

Kinch looked back out the window. In his letter, his sister, Sarah, told him that their little brother, Jacob, had just gotten married, Sarah was expecting a child, Dad was retiring and he and Mom were moving to Louisiana. Everything was changing. Kinch didn't like change. People you knew your whole life become strangers, and places you've been to thousands of times become unrecognizable. Kinch knew that everything would be different when he came home, and he didn't want it to be different. If it was the same then maybe he could forget that the war had ever happened and that he had spent it in a prison of war camp. He wanted to forget some of the things he'd had to do in order to stay alive. He hated the war. He didn't want to join, but his dad wanted him to 'serve his country', so he enlisted.

Kinch had grown up his whole life being at a disadvantage with everyone who wasn't black. The military wasn't any different. The only reason Kinch even made it past private was because his CO was indifferent. He didn't care what color you were as long as you got the job done.

Colonel Hogan was different; he wasn't indifferent, he cared. The others cared too. They were the first white people who he had actually made friends with. Coming here was a hard change, but Kinch viewed it mostly as a good one. After all, look at what they were doing. They had built a sabotage operation literally underneath the Germans' noses. Those Krauts don't suspect a thing every time they walked over the tunnels that the team worked in. It was a change, but it was one that Kinch didn't mind.

He looked around the common room, and studied each of the men in the room; the men that had helped him make it through that change. They had helped him when he believed the lies that he had been told his whole life…that he wasn't important, because he was black. After all, that was the reason why he had to stay at home plate most of the time. There weren't very many black Germans running around! He would sometimes think that he wasn't important to the operation. Then someone would come along, 'slap him in the face', and tell him to stop thinking that way.

He looked at Carter, who was now writing a letter of some kind. Kinch remembered what the young man had told him once. _"You know, Kinch, in a way, I think you're one of the most important people in this operation. I mean, you're like the rock we stand on. When we come back from a mission, you're always there to make sure we're all right. You take charge when the Colonel is gone. I don't think I ever thanked you. So, thanks, buddy."_

Kinch turned his head to look up at LeBeau. _"Mon ami? What is wrong? You are not upset because you can't go out on very many of the missions? Do not worry; someone needs to look after things when we are gone. And no one does it better than you do."_

Then he looked at Newkirk. _"Kinch, mate, it doesn't matter wot color you are. You can still make a difference in this bleedin' world, and so far, you're doin' a smashin' job. Don't let those blokes get to ya. They're the ones that 'ave somethin' wrong with 'em."_

Newkirk looked up from his letter. Green eyes met dark brown ones. The Englishman smiled at Kinch, and he smiled back. Yes, they had helped him with change. They had helped him _to_ change. And for that, he was grateful.

I let the day go by  
I always say goodbye  
I watch the stars from my window sill  
The whole world is moving and I'm standing still

Newkirk looked back down at his letter. Mavis was doing fine. She had gotten a raise in her paycheck. Something that was always good.

He missed her so much. Every time it got hard to go on, he would re-read her letters. It helped, but it didn't take away the homesick feeling that seemed to take up permanent residence in him. It had been four and a half years since he last saw her, and four since he last saw England. Every time they sent someone off to London, he'd find himself wishing that he could go with them. But he didn't go. He had every opportunity, every right to scamper off home. But he was needed here. He couldn't leave them. Sometimes that was the hardest part, though. To know that you could leave, but you don't…to have every chance to say 'cheerio' and go live a happy, _free_ life, but choose to stay. There was always that nagging feeling that said, _"You can be free."_ It was almost like having one foot out the door, but something was holding you back. Something keeping you from the freedom you rightfully deserve. In his case, it was his conscience, his love for his country, and his love for his sister, all intertwined together to make an invisible wall that he couldn't get past without harming himself in a way that would not be healable. Guilt was a terrible weapon. He knew that by experience.

So day after day, he stayed in his prison, helping to bring the war to a _hopefully_ quicker end. Sun up and sundown, he tried to just get through the day and worry about tomorrow when it came. He knew he wasn't the only one struggling with this problem, and he would help them in any way he could. After all, they were all in this together. But that didn't make it any easier to deal with it himself.

Newkirk pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket and grabbed a pencil that was lying on the table. Pausing to collect his thoughts, he then began to write.

_Dear Mavis,_

_I know I can't lie to you, not even on paper, so I'll just tell you the truth. I'm tired of being here in this rotten hole. I want to see you again, I miss you so much. I'm glad you got a raise and that life seems to be good to you. It isn't easy being cooped up here. You know me; I hate being stuck in one place for too long, and it's getting harder and harder. Sometimes your letters and me mates here are the only things that keep me going. More than anything I want to see you smile again. I want to hear you laugh at me jokes even if you've heard them hundreds of times. I want to hold you and never let go._

_I'm sorry if I getting you worried. I'm not planning on doing anything rash. I love you too much for that. Me mates are also here to help me. They're the best group of blokes you've ever met. I hope that someday you will get to met them…_

Newkirk glanced towards Hogan's quarters when he heard the door open. He saw the Colonel walk out and head to the stove. Newkirk looked back down at his letter and continued writing to his sister.

Woke up and wished that I was dead  
With an aching in my head  
I lay motionless in bed  
The night is here and the day is gone  
And the world spins madly on  
I thought of you and where you'd gone  
And the world spins madly on.

Hogan pored himself a cup of coffee. He looked around the room. LeBeau was lying in his bed, Carter was sitting in his, writing, Kinch sat next to the window looking out it, and Newkirk was writing a letter at the table. There was a solemn silence that hung over everyone, like a rain cloud.

Hogan inaudibly sighed. Whenever the mail came, it almost always did this to his men. Heck, it did it to him, too. Letters from family and friends got them all thinking about home. It uplifted them at the same time that it smashed them to the ground. He knew that it was particularly hard on those who'd been there the longest. Hogan respected them for not leaving. They had a job to do, and they were willing to do it. Hogan knew that he had the best men in all three armies and was honored to have the opportunity to work with them. They were his Heroes.

And the world spins madly on

The End

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Author's Note: What'd you think? The song I used is called 'The World Spins Madly On' by The Weepies. Yes, I know it's a strange band name (I thought so at first too), but it's a great song. It's very relaxing. I suggest you look it up, it's on YouTube.


End file.
